The night the clock stood still
by phantomrider2597
Summary: Laura and Fisher - unfinished, but wanted to see your responses


**The night the clock stood still**

_Hey everyone, just the normal disclaimer... I don't own anything about this series, I just love it. Prompted by series 3, episode 11._

**Laura's POV**

The clock had stopped. Its great ticking, usually so loud in the silence of the night, was missed easily by everyone else – but then, I supposed no one had reason to watch its hands tick through time as I. It was a constant reminder and a constant pain... Often I had been tempted to tamper with the thing, perhaps just for the spite of it.

Almost unconsciously, my feet crunched slightly on the path, moving without my permission towards the clock tower. My palms slickened, and I felt warm despite the coolness of the night; my cloak felt too thin and entirely too recognisable as I cautiously peered around, before slipping into the tower.

My heels tapped in a way I normally found satisfying as I scaled the wooden stairs which creaked slightly under my weight. I pulled down my hood, allowing my hair to spring free, as I reached the top stair where I hovered slightly, surprised by my own nervousness. Or was it my own doubt?

**Fisher's POV**

I heard footsteps on the stairs; light, feminine feet clad in shoes with heels. I could smell her, the scent that was so entirely Laura and had haunted me for so long. In she walked, serene and beautiful, like a fairy who was stuck somewhere between childhood and being a full woman.

"I thought I would find you here," she said quietly, a slight smile touching her lips.

"I saw the clock had stopped. Someone's mischief night trick I suspect. How could I walk by?"

"I'm sorry I was so angry with you Fisher." Laura stepped forward.

I shrugged. "It's to be expected."

Her mouth twitched as she considered her words. "It is."

"Then why did you stop the clock?" I leaned forward, raising my eyebrows slightly.

Indignant, her eyes flashed. "Are you accusing me?"

I looked at her, knowing she would read my expression like no one else had ever been able to.

She took a breath, struggling to control her anger. "You think I've done this to keep you here!"

"I saw you going out," I explained.

She stepped even closer, tilting her head charmingly to one side. "Do you suppose you're that important to me? Do you suppose I've been pining ever since you left?"

I turned my head away, but kept my eyes on her. "There are bushes, and wildflowers I know better than my own hand. The pond where the yellow brandy bowl water lilies grow. The little birch thicket where the long tailed tits congregate."

Her lips parted, her eyes widening in surprise and – I hoped – softening. "How can you remember that so well?" She sounded unsure of herself.

I pulled out her drawing, unfolding it as if it were a delicate flower and extending it to her. "Here's why I came back," I said honestly. I stood, watching as she shifted from one foot to the other. "The memory of you didn't fade. It grew. I told myself, keep moving, it'll pass. It's not like some blinding flash; It crept up on me... I'd find myself smiling, and I realised I was thinking of you."

She smiled, dropping the protective mask she wore before seeming to come back to herself. "Do you think I want to hear this now? It is too late."

I turned, shoving my hands in my pocket. "I know it's too late. And I accept that. But the clocks have stopped – at least, this one has anyway. Its mischief night. Why did you go out Laura? What were you looking for?"

"You will laugh at me, I know you will."

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

"I was determined to be..." she searched for the right word, "frivolous." She shrugged her shoulders, smiling broadly. "I was searching for something... I just wandered around."

"Buttoned up," I leaned towards her, smiling at the old jest.

We both laughed. "Don't you dare!" she exclaimed, teasing in her eyes.

"It's not too late." I couldn't help myself. "The night's not over yet... Dance with me."

Laura looked surprised, "No," she said laughing. "What an idea," she mused, shaking her head.

"Dancing's only dancing Laura; showing the world your cares are all in the past." We began to circle each other, slowly. I took her hands; "Come on, show the world Laura Timmons isn't buttoned up."  
We both smiled and laughed as we danced, but our pace was slowing, as I gazed at her as if she were the only thing in the world – and it seemed she was returning the feeling. We slowed even further, coming to a standstill.

It felt as if time really had stopped, as if we were frozen in time. My hand trailed from her hand, up her arm, over her shoulder and up to her cheek. My eyes burned into hers.

"Laura," I breathed, unable to think, even less say, anything but her name as a benediction and prayer.

**Laura's POV**

I knew Daniel would never forgive me, but the pull was undeniable. Fisher had been my first love, my girlish ideal and fantasy; until he had broken my heart. I still wanted to pull away, obey what my sensible brain was instructing me to do – turn away, walk away – no, better yet, run. I should run.

I couldn't stop myself; I tilted my head and stretched up on my toes, touching my lips to his in a bittersweet kiss, achingly tender and painfully sweet. "Fisher," I gasped, snaking both my arms up around his neck and entangling my fingers in his dark hair. I kiss him again and again, little pecks and longer touches, almost wishing to show him what he had lost. But of course, I had lost it too. And it seemed, that feeling had never been replaced.

My blood was pounding through my veins, and I felt warmth spread easily though my body... And it would be so easy; to let him love me, to love him, to forget everything else but the feelings between us. I felt torn, as though my whole being was rolling and tossing like the oceans I knew he loved. I kissed him with more passion, holding myself tight against his body.

I couldn't help myself – I had fallen all that time ago and was still falling, even this minute – I loved Fisher.

**Fisher's POV**

I loved her, I probably always would, and here she was, My Laura, in my arms, soft and warm and willing. I had died and gone to heaven. I kissed her, nibbling her coral lips, and praying she wouldn't push me away. "Laura," I whispered against her lips, moving across her cheek to her ear and down her jaw bone. Her arms linked around my neck as she gently rocked her body into mine, whimpering slightly. I stroked a hand down her arm and pulled back, looking into her sky blue eyes; a blush spread across her milky skin and she sighed.

"I can't help myself," she said softly. Tears filled her eyes, and she placed a hand on my cheek and I could barely stop myself from tilting my head into her palm. "I love you."

I laughed joyfully out loud, sweeping her into my arms and spinning. I rained kisses on her nose, cheeks, in her hair, holding her tightly. I set her down with a grin, wrapping one strand of setting sun hair around my finger. "I love you too."

I kissed her again, unable not to. I carefully backed against the stone wall, my hands on her waist. Her head was tossed back as she panted, allowing me free access to her neck.

**Laura's POV**

As Fisher kissed down my neck, I lost the ability to stand; he caught me, and we both sank to the ground. I lay back willingly, praying he would never go again.

"You're mine Laura," he growled possessively, trailing his hands up my sides to settle on my breasts. I cried out at the unexpected contact and thrashed as he continued his ministrations; I was beyond words now, knowing where I would end up if this continued, but I no longer cared.

I reached up and shoved off his jacket, then unbuttoned his shirt and tossed that off too. He groaned as I trailed a hand over his chest, which was sprinkled with dark hair, his skin tanned with toned muscles flowing underneath. He was beautiful, although I would always refuse to tell him that to his face. His ego needed no further boosts from me.

His hands glided down to buttons of my shirt, roughly tugging each free until my chest was bared to his gaze but for my thin white shift; I thought to blush, but he didn't see as he lowered his head to my chest, and then I no longer cared, too busy wasting my energy in crying out in pleasure. I buried my hands in his hair, wishing only to keep him there forever. His hands pushed my dress further down, over my hips, then pulled it fully off; everywhere his fingers brushed, my skin burned – I could only purr, eager and frightened at the same time. Perhaps this was bliss.


End file.
